


The Boy Who Catches The Bus (I Think He Is Beautiful)

by classicaldean



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sad, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform, larrystylinson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:03:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/classicaldean/pseuds/classicaldean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a boy who sits two seats ahead of Harry on the bus, and he thinks he is beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy Who Catches The Bus (I Think He Is Beautiful)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is obviously short and this was the first one-shot I ever wrote and I just decided to post it here from Tumblr. The italics doesn't work, so the poem stanzas will be in parentheses.

(there is a boy who catches my bus, who has bluey-grey eyes as clear as the lake the kids go swimming in.

he sits with his friends and laughs a lot at little things. and when his friends are silent, he looks out the window.

i sit two seats behind him and i think he is beautiful. )

Harry sighs as he leans his head against the window to his right, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips as he reaches the bus stop he knows so well after two years of riding past and picking the boy and his sisters who live down the street up. He sees the boy with the soft-looking fringe and the bluey-grey eyes that Harry likes standing there, hopping onto the bus with his sister, who Harry is sure is named Lottie. The girl sits near the front, but the boy takes his usual spot two seats ahead of Harry. The curly-haired boy smiles slightly as the other boy laughs at something his friend has said. The corners of his eyes crinkle up as he grins widely, a thousand-watt smile that could brighten the saddest of days. The tinkling sound of his laughter fills Harry’s ears, and that within itself is enough to make him smile. But when the boy’s friends go quiet for a moment, the boy looks out the window, and he almost seems sad, or wistful. Harry thinks he is beautiful.

(there is a boy who catches my bus, who acts happy every morning from 7am.

he sits with his friends and gives them empty smiles and wears long sleeves in the middle of the summer.

i sit two seats behind him and i think he is beautiful.)

 

Harry watches curiously as the same boy climbs onto the bus that summer, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It’s one of the hottest summers on record, and yet the boy wears a long-sleeved sweater composed of soft, multi-colored threads. He seems happy, but when he looks out the window, Harry can see something is wrong. His eyes seem less bright, and his smiles are empty. Something seems wrong. But Harry thinks he is still beautiful.

(there is a boy who catches my bus, who was bluey-grey eyes as empty as the lake the kids go swimming in, in winter.

he sits with his friends and stares at his lap and when his friends say something funny, he doesn’t laugh anymore.

i sit two seats behind him and i think he is beautiful.)

Harry carefully observes the boy with the beautiful eyes so empty, so dull, so sad. He notes that his gait is slow and unsure, and he seems hesitant, and he always wears his long sleeves. And the saddest of all, when his friends tell a funny joke or a story of their weekend, he doesn’t laugh. He simply wraps his arms around himself and stares out the window. Harry knows something is wrong, but he can not bring himself to say anything to him. The boy is empty, but Harry thinks he’s absolutely beautiful.

(there was a boy who caught my bus, who was found by his parents after he had shot himself.

he wrote a letter to his friends and told them that he loved them. he wrote a letter to his parents saying sorry.

and he wrote a letter to the sad boy who sat two seats behind him on the bus, and told him that he was beautiful.)

Harry knows something is wrong when he doesn’t see the boy arrive with his sister for school one stormy Tuesday. The girl, his sister, is in tears as she boards the bus. Everyone asks what is wrong, and she only cries harder before announcing her brother is dead. Harry feels like he is dreaming. A bad nightmare. He should have said something. And now the beautiful boy is gone. Forever. He is in tears, taking uneven breaths. She takes a shaky breath and looks around, eyes landing on the boy’s spot, the spot where he should still be. The spot where he will never sit again. The girl’s eyes travel two seats behind, spotting the boy who always sits two seats behind her brother. She swallows and walks up to him, handing him a slip of paper before slipping back into her seat with her friend, still in tears. Harry clutches the paper tightly, afraid to look. He lets out a deep breath, which sounds more like a broken sob as he unfolds the paper and reads over the letter.

Dear Harry (yes, I know your name),

I regret sitting in front of you for nearly three years and never speaking to you. I’m sorry, maybe you’re sad, maybe you aren’t. I’m not sure. I just wanted to say, I think you’re beautiful. I love how your curls bounce and your eyes shine and how you’re so quiet and sweet. How you laugh, deep and low. I’m rambling a bit, but it’s necessary. Point is, you’re beautiful and I want you to know that. Maybe I’ll see you someday, and be able to say it to your face, maybe not. We’ll see some day. Stay beautiful, okay?

Sincerely,

Louis

 

Harry cries quietly as he stands over Louis’ casket, the one tan skin now pale and pasty. His eyes are closed, but Harry has memorized their bluey-grey color to heart. His lips are slightly chapped, and still a soft pink. The hole in his head is gone, disappeared thanks to the mortician. There is a rough stubble on his chin and jaw that Harry never had the pleasure to see up close before. His features seem softer with death, and the corners of his eyes are not crinkled like they should be. And on his arms, the skin seems perfectly smooth. But Harry knows that there are scars littering the creamy skin underneath the make-up. Even now, in death, Harry still thinks Louis is beautiful.

Based on this post : http://the-stylinson-song.tumblr.com/post/52503866835/foureyucked-bambilous-misfit-misfortune

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, if you want you can follow my Tumblr! Every one-shot I write gets published there first, and you can ask me questions or be my friend, whatever. :) My URL is the-stylinson-song.tumblr.com!


End file.
